Swung all their caps in air,
Uncorking bottles there,
Watching the Freshmen while
Every one wondered;
Plunged in tobacco-smoke,
With many a desperate stroke,
Dozens of bottles broke.
Then they came back, but not,
Not the half hundred.
The winter vacation of his senior year Garfield spent at Poestenkill, a little place a few miles from Troy, New York. While teaching his writing school there, he became acquainted with some members of the Christian Church and through them with the officers of the city schools in Troy. Struck by his abilities, they resolved to offer him a position in the schools at a salary of $1,500 a year. The proposition was exciting to his imagination. It meant much more money than he could hope for back in Ohio; it meant the swift discharge of his debt, a life in a busy city, where the roar of the great world was never hushed. But on the other hand, his mother and the friends among whom he had struggled through boyhood, were back in Ohio.